


Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open

by oceantears



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Kneeling, M/M, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Sexual Submission, Submission, friends? lovers? who knows, giving up control, just a short fluffy piece, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceantears/pseuds/oceantears
Summary: Demons did not, generally, give up control.





	Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short, fluffy piece about Crowley giving up control a little because I felt like it. :)  
> English is not my first language, please tell me where I made mistakes!  
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title is from Hozier's "Angel of small death and the codeine scene" which is absolutely amazing!!

Demons did not, generally, give up control.  
Doing so in Hell would be a certain death-sentence, seeing as there were, well, _demons_ around. And no one - Heaven, not even Beelzebub - would want to be at the mercy of another demon. 

So for the past 6,000 years or so, Crowley had always been the one in control, an automatic response to the fear of losing it that was so deeply ingrained in his brain. He had never dared to give up control, for he knew that it would only lead to pain.  
6,000 years and Crowley had not once dared to surrender, and slowly, he was getting tired of it. He was exhausted, physically as well as mentally and yearned for an opportunity to be able to totally relax, to let himself fall just to be caught by warm, welcoming hands.  
But of course, he would never, never voice those feelings. If Hell even as much as heard about them… Crowley shuddered at the mere thought of it.  
No. He’d have to keep these unnatural whishes to himself, forever. 

-

But like most things in Crowley’s life, that did not go accordingly to plan. And this time, it had been Aziraphale’s fault, a least indirectly.  
Crowley had just dropped by the bookshop for a quick visit after an exhausting meeting in Hell. He had stumbled in the angel’s flat, without any real reason for his visit. He was exhausted and bone-tired, seeing as he had not had much time to sleep in the past few days, with the whole business of the world nearly ending and such.

Therefore, he had been nearly incoherent as he had let himself in, and had not even greeted his friend properly before collapsing on his sofa, burying his head in the cushions.  
Aziraphale had been understandably worried but Crowley had merely shrugged him off, only wanting to sleep, if necessary on the angel’s floor, if only it meant that he’d finally be able to rest.  
But just as he’d been about to drift away completely, he’d felt Aziraphale lift him ever-so-gently into his arms, carrying him upstairs to the bedroom. Crowley remembered feeling surprised and inexplicably happy, before he’d been laid down gently onto the angel’s bed, where he had finally, finally fallen asleep.

When Crowley had woken up, he’d been beyond embarrassed and determined to leave as quickly as possible and then to avoid the angel for the next 100 years or so, until the past evening had been forgotten.  
He had not expected Aziraphale to wait for him in the bookshop, with a cup of steaming hot tea next to him and a slight smile playing around his lips. Crowley had stopped dead in his tracks, only for Aziraphale to get up and make his way over to him.  
He had also not expected the hug that followed.  
But Aziraphale had hugged Crowley tightly and that had done it, really. That soft, comforting hug was the reason why the two friends had ended up in the position they were currently in.

 

At the moment, Crowley was kneeling on one of Aziraphale’s cushions next to the angel’s sofa. His head was tilted back slightly, with his eyes closed and Aziraphale was slowly stroking through his hair.  
It felt heavenly. 

Crowley’s breathing came in slow, measured breaths and he concentrated fully on the feeling of Aziraphale’s hands in his hair.  
He felt as if he were drifting, far, far away from all his problems and his worries, feeling free and light.

He had given up control for the first time in millennia. He had trusted someone, surrendered himself to someone, and right now, he couldn’t have been happier.


End file.
